


Yellow Sticky Notes

by Levis_turtles



Series: Billdip Drabbles (the most original title!!!) [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill knocks on Dipper's door at 3AM with a jar he can't open</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yellow Sticky Notes

There was a knock on the door.

At first Dipper ignored it – it was probably some dumb teenagers pulling a prank, and he was too busy to deal with that now. He had his glasses perched on the end of his nose, leaning far too close to his laptop as he worked on his essay. A glance at the clock told him that it was 3AM, and he still had four thousand words left to write. ‘Five thousand words from the perspective of an inanimate object’ - he had sneered at the assignment when it was first given to him, but now it was kicking his ass and he was really starting to wish that he wasn’t so good at procrastinating. 

But when the knock came again, more insistent this time, he thought he’d better check it out. After all – if it was a man with a hole through his chest using his last few moments of life to send him on the quest of a lifetime, he wouldn’t let an English paper ruin it for him.

He swung the door open, looking straight to the ground to see if the hunched old man really was bleeding at his doorstep, but all he saw were two legs. Long legs. _Bare_ legs. His eyes travelled up this stranger, past legs that were longer than his attention span to bright yellow underpants lined with orange triangles to an equally bare chest and finally landing on a bright grin. Dark brown curls framed the man’s face, shadows defining his cheekbones and jaw, his eyes a brown so pale they looked almost gold in the fluorescent lighting of Dipper’s apartment. The man sighed when he saw Dipper, relief crossing his features as he held something up for Dipper to see.

“I know it’s 3AM,” he said, his voice higher than Dipper had expected it to be, “and I know I’m in my underwear,” he continued, making Dipper look back down to the yellow pants contrasting starkly with the man’s dark skin, “but can you please open this for me?” He shook the jar of pasta sauce for emphasis.

Dipper stared at it incredulously for a few seconds, before taking the jar from the man and twisting the top. The lid popped off easily enough, and Dipper thanked the lord for all the years of running around the forest he’d done that had given him enough muscle to open most containers of food – the only thing anyone really needed muscles for anyway.

The man at the door frowned – almost pouted – as Dipper handed the jar back to him. “I loosened it,” he said, long fingers circling the lid daintily.

Dipper laughed, “Sure you did.”

The man’s eyes grew wide and he smiled, the curve of his lips slightly uneven, giving his grin an almost sharp edge. “I’m glad you agree,” he said, then turned on his heel and walked through the door of the apartment opposite Dipper’s.

Dipper stood by the door for a few seconds, blinking at the door across from him with curiosity. He could have sworn no one lived there, and yet… 

Sighing, Dipper turned away from the mysterious man’s door and closed his own, heading back to the sofa. According to his computer screen not even a minute had passed, but under the weight of that man’s gaze he’d felt frozen in time – like every breath took an eternity and every blink took two. Dipper forced his thoughts away from his neighbour and concentrated on his work, fingers darting across the keyboard at a mile a minute as he hurried to finish so that he could at least get some sleep in before class tomorrow.

Ten minutes and barely a hundred words later, there was another knock at the door. Dipper got up to answer it immediately this time, half expecting his neighbour to be there with yet another condiment to open.

But he wasn’t.

There was, however, a bowl of pasta on the floor, a yellow sticky note on the side. Breathing a laugh, Dipper picked it up, heading in to his apartment and closing the door behind him. He took the bowl into the kitchen and rummaged around in a drawer for a fork, staring at the note as he did so. ‘Bring the bowl back whenever,’ it said, but that wasn’t the part that Dipper was staring at. He was more interested in the line underneath, which said, ‘Call me’ followed by an eleven-digit number.

 


End file.
